


In Time

by variablestar



Series: in space, through time [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Character Study, M/M, Relationship Study
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-01
Updated: 2018-04-01
Packaged: 2019-04-16 16:14:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14168685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/variablestar/pseuds/variablestar
Summary: He avoids Akaashi as much as he can.Everyone else seems to like him enough.  He’s polite, and he’s a good setter, and he’s never late to practice.  He pulls off a dump that Sano can’t block and Komi can’t receive and everyone on his side of the court cheers for him.  He’s got restless hands and fidgety fingers and he thinks too much of everything, probably.  Bokuto’s got a kid sister who does that all the time.  He tries not to.Bokuto and Akaashi: a study.





	In Time

            Konoha is decidedly giving Bokuto a _look._ Which, okay, yeah, is probably fair, since he’s definitely supposed to be paying attention. But he can’t help it — his mind has been stuck on horseshoe crabs all afternoon, and the fact that they have blue blood. Blue! Something with, what was it, zinc? Iron? _Copper._ It’s got something to do with copper, that they have blue blood, and how _weird_ is that, and there’s a libero giving his name that Bokuto doesn’t catch at all.

 

            Bokuto rocks on his feet and watches the first year that’s directly in front of him twisting his fingers within themselves, and horseshoe crabs aren’t even technically _crabs_. Konoha nudges him with an elbow, trying to be subtle but it digs hard into Bokuto’s ribs and he can’t keep himself from flinching and giving Konoha a look of his own. He’s _trying_ to pay attention, trying to get all the names and positions into his head, but he only kind of cares. He likes volleyball, really, he _does_ , but it’s just, there are other things on his mind that are more important. Like marine arthropods, and he thinks his sock is kinda falling down inside his shoe, and hey, that first year must be really nervous because he keeps fidgeting with his fingers, what’s he so anxious about anyway?

 

            Komi’s starting to give him a look now, too.

 

            There’s a wing spiker next to the libero, and Bokuto thinks he catches that his name is Ono, and he tries to twist his foot in his shoe to get his sock back over his heel. It doesn’t work. He should probably get _new_ socks that don’t do this all the time. When the first year with the restless hands gets his turn to introduce himself, the words are short and to the point and Bokuto wonders how long he’s been rehearsing it in his head.

 

            Akaashi Keiji. First year, class six. Setter.

 

            He _would_ be a setter, Bokuto thinks. He looks like he has the hands for it — long, elegant fingers, even as they fold tight together and twist and pull, and he’s probably got too much running through his mind. Bokuto gets it. Horseshoe crabs have _ten eyes_.

 

            Konoha nudges him again, and he doesn’t even know what he’s all fussy for because Bokuto _is_ paying attention. He knows Akaashi’s name, and Maybe-Ono’s. (He does not know the other four first years’ names. But that’s beside the point.)

 

            They run a slow practice, easy practice matches that break the team up so there’s an even number of first and second and third years on each side of each court, a handful standing by still, and Bokuto ends up right across the net from Akaashi, who watches them all with careful owl eyes. He’s observant, Bokuto thinks. A setter. Mindful of the court around him, his teammates, the opposing side. Horseshoe crabs are nocturnal. Like bats. Owls.

 

            When Akaashi sets, he tosses to the spiker’s preference, just high enough, just far enough from the net. Strong and precise and graceful fingers. He misses a few, with a new team and players unfamiliar to him — but Bokuto thinks he’s still impressive. He must care a lot about the game and what he’s doing. A dedication Bokuto doesn’t quite have.

 

            Bokuto thinks he might be more patient than Kimura, who quits tossing to Bokuto if he can’t kill every ball, even though sometimes it’s _his_ fault for not giving a high enough set— But maybe he’s just nervous. Too shy right now, to do anything but agree and be cooperative. Maybe it’s just because he’s not tossing to Bokuto yet. Kimura used to be a patient setter, too.

 

            He avoids Akaashi as much as he can.

 

            Everyone else seems to like him enough. He’s polite, and he’s a good setter, and he’s never late to practice. He pulls off a dump that Sano can’t block and Komi can’t receive and everyone on his side of the court cheers for him. He’s got restless hands and fidgety fingers and he thinks too much about everything, probably. Bokuto’s got a kid sister, Mieko, who does that all the time. He tries not to.

 

            Konoha’s definitely judgmental about the fact that Bokuto’s barely said hello to the first year setter, but Konoha doesn’t get it. Konoha doesn’t have to worry about whether or not he’s ever going to get the touch the ball, because he always does. He’s reliable like that, in every position. Jack of all trades, Komi always says. Konoha tries (but never manages successfully) to cut him off before he tacks on the _master of none,_ but Bokuto thinks sometimes, he’d prefer to be good at a lot of things instead of mostly great at one. Because he’s still only mostly great. Not even. It’s more like, kind of. He’s kind of a great spiker. He still messes up a lot. He still gets blocked a lot. His straights always get picked up or get called as being out.

 

            Kimura prefers tossing to Sano anyway. At least Sano is reliable to get all his spikes in.

 

            Akaashi probably prefers the reliable spikers, too. Bokuto gets it. Why waste one of his impeccable tosses on someone who can’t even hit the ball right?

 

            Sometimes Yukie — who is _way_ stronger than she looks, by the way — has to physically drag him to practice.

 

            Spiny anteaters are one of the only mammals that lay eggs.

 

            It’s three weeks into the year and Bokuto gets put onto the same side of the court as Akaashi for a practice match. Kimura’s right across the net with Sano. Konoha’s definitely eyeing him from the side, watching him avert his gaze away from Akaashi, listening to him get restless chatter out to Washio in hopes that it’ll keep the setter from talking to him before they start. He really, really hates disappointing people. Spiny anteaters — echidnas — have no teeth.

 

            Akaashi sends him the first toss, nice and high and _just_ far enough back from the net that Bokuto can send a solid cross right down the inside of the line, where the blockers can’t stop it and Komi can’t pick it up. Bokuto’s sending Akaashi a grin before he remembers not to, and quickly turns it to Konoha.

 

            The next toss goes to Washio. Echidnas’ brains are unusually large for their body size. Kimura always tapes his fingers, but Akaashi does not, and he doesn’t wear kneepads, either. Sometimes Kimura rolls his eyes when Bokuto starts talking about wildlife and it makes him feel _wrong,_ even after Yukie insists _she_ wants to hear about naked mole rats’ life cycles when he starts to shut himself up.

 

            He’s too much of not the right thing, and he knows it, and that’s okay. Maybe he could’ve played football. He would’ve made a great goalkeeper. He’d have something else to bond with Mieko over. He wouldn’t have to worry about never getting to touch the ball because as the goalie he would _have_ to, that’s the goalie’s _job._ Catch the ball, stop the other team from scoring.

 

            Akaashi sends another toss to Bokuto, and he misses it, and that’s it, then. The next one will go to Konoha, or Washio, or Kudo, and it’s fine. Akaashi wouldn’t be a setter if he didn’t make all the right choices.

 

            Except—

 

            The ball comes right to Bokuto, again, and he’s so surprised to see it come up in front of him he forgets to worry about messing this one up, too, and he sends it right through the block. The second his feet are touch the court again, he’s beaming at Akaashi with a “Hey hey hey!” that’s probably too loud, Sano always tells him, but he can’t find it in himself to care. There are things more important to him than volleyball, but he still really does like it.

 

            He’s always first out of practice. Ready to get home, eat dinner, see Mieko and ask about her day, what book she’s gotten from the library this time. There’s always homework, and there’s this drama he started watching with his mom and he’s always excited to get back to start the next episode or two.

 

            He knows some of the team stays late, and a lot of the new first years are now, too, trying to catch up with everyone else — trying to earn a place on the court. But Bokuto’s already got a starting position anyway, and it’s doubtful one of the new players is going to steal the spot out from under him. Besides, the handful of times he has stuck around late, Kimura didn’t want to spend the spare time tossing to him or trying to work out the kinks in his straights. He prefers Sano. Most of the team does, so it’s fine. Bokuto’s got other things to occupy himself with, like wondering whether tonight will be the night the two characters in the drama will _finally_ get together.

 

            Akaashi stays late to practice. Bokuto wonders who he spends the time tossing to.

 

            One of Mieko’s classmates brought in mochi that looked like little watermelon slices, to share with the whole class, because it was his birthday, and she brought an extra home for Bokuto. It doesn’t taste so much like watermelon, but it’s still good. She got a new book from the library and spends all of dinner talking about seahorses.

 

            He almost skips morning practice to study for his math test, but Yukie drags him in, and it’s not like it matters much — he’s not going to score well either way. Math is his worst subject, after all, and he likes volleyball more, anyway.

 

            When Akaashi talks to the upperclassmen, he holds his hands behind his back, his fingers still pulling at one another. Always proper and polite. He’s probably got, like, really strict parents. Maybe this is why everyone likes him.

 

            Bokuto doesn’t even usually remember to use the right honorifics.

 

            Akaashi doesn’t ever really talk to Bokuto. It might be because Bokuto does everything he can to prevent it. Kimura compliments everyone else on their form and their spikes, even Konoha, but he only sometimes tells Bokuto his spikes are good. Seahorses can consume over _three thousand_ brine shrimp in a day.

 

            He thinks Konoha is deliberately trying to get Bokuto to talk to Akaashi. Bokuto can’t find a way to tell him that he doesn’t want to annoy their other setter.

 

            How big are brine shrimp, anyway?

 

            He totally fails his math test and half his crosses get blocked during afternoon practice, and Bokuto knows he’s being childish when he tells Kimura to just stop sending him tosses, but it’s not like Kimura was going to set to him anymore anyway, even when he starts feeling better and starts getting antsy watching Sano and Washio spike the ball over.

 

            Bokuto hasn’t really been paying attention to Akaashi, but when they’re almost at the set point, he gets switched in for Kimura. The first toss goes to Sano, and the second to Bokuto. So does the third, which gives them the set when Sarukui can’t pick up the ball.

 

            They’ve got a practice match against Shinzen on Friday and he thinks he overhears Kimura telling Kudo that coach wants to put Akaashi in as the starting setter. Bokuto tries to feel bad for him, because a first year taking a third year’s spot’s gotta suck. But he thinks he likes Kimura even less than he likes Akaashi, so it’s hard.

 

            There are roughly forty known species of seahorse.

 

            Mieko listens to him talk about how Komi got kicked out of the library over something to do with yogurt, and that they’ve got a first year setter who doesn’t tell him he’s being too loud when he gets excited about getting a good spike in. She wishes him luck for their match on Friday, and Bokuto tries not to think about how Shinzen’s really good this year while Fukurodani’s not as good as they could be.

 

            Shinzen will probably win. Sano will probably tell Kimura it’s Bokuto’s fault on the bus ride back. He probably won’t be wrong, and Konoha will try to cover it up by asking about cows. That’s how it always goes.

 

            They practice a lot with Shinzen, and they’re all familiar with Bokuto’s crosses, and even with new first years on the court, it doesn’t take so long for them so start shutting him out. Akaashi is watching him and Bokuto knows it. Akaashi’s always watching everything.

 

            He knows he’s getting irritated, and he knows it’s gotta be annoying, and he should’ve played football or something. Akaashi sends him another toss that gets blocked and he snaps, the same way he always does right before Kimura ignores him for the entire rest of practice. He tells Akaashi not to send any more tosses his way, there’s no point, and Akaashi shares a look with Konoha before telling Bokuto, “Then please calm down in the time that I am not tossing to you.”

 

            Proper. Polite. He’s probably super annoyed with Bokuto. He stretches strong and graceful fingers before the next serve comes.

 

            It only takes a few more points before Bokuto has himself pulled together, and another one before he starts feeling restless. He wants to spike. Akaashi’s not going to set to him anymore. He probably doesn’t trust him anymore. He knows he’s just going to get blocked again, like he always does, and it’s _worthless—_

 

            There’s a sharp, “Bokuto-san,” and then the ball is arcing up in front of him. There’s nothing more satisfying than watching it break right through Shinzen’s block.

 

            There’s this excited rush in his veins, and _this_ is how he likes volleyball to feel. _This_ is what keeps him playing.

 

            He wishes it was like this all the time.

 

            Mieko tells him about foxes while he paints her nails later. Usually it’s a good distraction. But no matter how interesting it is, he can’t stop thinking about Akaashi’s pleased smile when his spike hit the court.

 

            Akaashi finds him at lunch on Monday. Walks right into his classroom where he’s trying to steal milk bread from Konoha, and he’s got his hands tucked behind his back, and he calls him _Bokuto-san._

 

            Bokuto never really hears that without it sounding sarcastic.

 

            “I’m sorry to interrupt your lunch,” he says.

 

            “No, come sit, Akaashi-kun,” Konoha says, mouth full of rice, and he pulls the chair out from the desk in front of him with his foot, for Akaashi to take. _“Bokuto-san_ is happy to have you.”

 

            _That._ That is usually how Bokuto usually hears his name with that honorific tacked onto it.

 

            Akaashi doesn’t sit, and Bokuto feels kind of relieved over that. He’s still not really done avoiding him. Seahorses don’t have teeth, either, and Kimura was nice to Bokuto until he lost them a game for the first time.

 

            “I’m only here for a moment, thank you,” Akaashi says. He stands so straight and it makes him look taller. Bokuto bets his fingers are fidgeting, even if he can’t see them. Akaashi’s restless in little ways, different from Bokuto’s leg bouncing under his desk, and different from how Yukie constantly readjusts how she sits in her chair. “I wanted to ask if you would like to stay for extra practice tonight. I was thinking about your straights.”

 

            Konoha snorts a laugh and makes the same joke he always does, “Bokuto’s not good at doing anything straight.” Like that didn’t get old the last eight times he told it, five of those times being to Komi.

 

            Yukie kicks the back of his chair.

 

            Bokuto’s still trying to piece together exactly what Akaashi is saying. He wants to practice with him— wants to work on his straight spikes— wants to— help? Akaashi wants to help him?

 

            There’s probably some sort of ulterior motive. The only person who ever voluntarily offers to help Bokuto with anything is Mieko, and it’s usually with folding his shirts when he’s trying to put his laundry away. Never with volleyball.

 

            But Akaashi’s still standing there, straight and tall, hands clasped behind his back, and Bokuto tells him, “Okay, Akaashi.”

 

            Konoha gives him a look like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. Bokuto kind of can’t believe it either. When seahorses mate, it’s for life. Yukie takes full advantage of the situation and takes Konoha’s milk bread right off the desk.

 

            Akaashi bows before he leaves. His uniform is all clean and perfectly pulled together and he probably irons it, too.

 

            Bokuto can’t really sit still the rest of the day, and he’s sort of restless during regular afternoon practice, too. Konoha keeps giving him these looks and Bokuto ignores him entirely. Akaashi keeps talking to Kimura and Bokuto ignores the uneasy feeling in his stomach, too.

 

            Most of the team leaves once practice is technically over. Kimura and Kudo and Sano stick around with one of the first years, at the cart furthest from Bokuto and Akaashi. Komi’s still around with the other libero, whose name Bokuto really should know by now, and Sarukui. It’s a lot quieter like this. Bokuto hopes his mom doesn’t start the next episode of the drama without him. _This_ is definitely the one where Suzuki and Abe are going to get together, he _knows_ it.

 

            Akaashi pulls over a cart of volleyballs, and asks Bokuto if he doesn’t mind spiking a few straights. And they’re not bad. One is totally out, and another is more of a cross than it is a straight, but for the most part, they slam right down onto the other side of the court. They’re decent straights, Bokuto knows.

 

            It’s just that they always get stopped.

 

            They’re easy to block, or to be picked up by a waiting libero. That’s what almost always happens, which is why Bokuto avoids using them as much as he can. His crosses are good. They’re strong and cut super close to the net and he’s good at getting them past blockers. Most of the time. Some of the time. They play against a lot of schools who have become really familiar with how Bokuto plays. Who have become familiar with how to stop him.

 

            This is when he doesn’t like volleyball so much.

 

            “Bokuto-san,” Akaashi says, and he says it like that’s how it’s supposed to be said, and his mom has probably never accidentally forgotten to pay the bill at a restaurant. “Try to look at the court when you spike. Not the ball. If you already know you’re going to hit it, then worry about where it’s going.”

 

            And that’s stupid, Bokuto thinks, because he _does_ look at the court. It’s hard to play otherwise. But the more he spikes, the more he realizes Akaashi’s right, and he does look at the ball a lot. He’s just trying to _hit_ it right — a hard and direct spike. Something that’ll slam against the court, break through a block. He’s not great at doing that anyway, sure, but it’s hard to do it perfect when he’s not always totally concentrated on the game and what he’s doing.

 

            They’re the last two out of the gym and Bokuto thinks he might be more irritated than he was to begin with. He’s still not good enough. Mieko’s probably eaten all the good leftovers from dinner and he’s going to have to cook something. Suzuki and Abe _better_ get together this time.

 

            (They don’t. Bokuto overcooks his rice. Akaashi continued to set to him even when his spikes weren’t improving at all.)

 

            Konoha asks him about the extra practice first thing in the morning, all teasing and snarky and Bokuto very deliberately ignores him.

 

            Bokuto doesn’t practice late with Akaashi every night. He’s got homework, and he likes to go home and see his sister, and likes not having to cook dinner for himself so late. There are things more important to him than volleyball anyway.

 

            But he stays a couple nights a week. Akaashi seeks him out to ask him if he doesn’t, like it matters. Like Bokuto’s straights are ever going to be good. Sometimes Washio sticks around with them, or Sarukui. They like Akaashi’s tosses, too. There’s one time Komi’s still there, and he spends half the time jumping in to receive the spikes Bokuto thinks are going to be good, and he laughs at Bokuto’s pouting. They’re not bad nights.

 

            Once, he gets a really good straight, that totally paints the edge line, and Sarukui calls out that it’s in, and Akaashi returns the grin Bokuto gives him. It’s only once. But Bokuto thinks he deserves to feel proud.

 

            Akaashi starts fitting into Kimura’s spot on the court, even in their practice match against Nekoma. Bokuto really does try to feel bad, but all he feels at a Kimura’s irritated expression is smugness. He avoids thinking too much about that. Jellyfish can _clone_ themselves.

 

            “You think Akaashi’s gonna start during Interhigh?” Konoha asks during lunch one day.

 

            Bokuto looks up from the English homework he’s trying to puzzle through. “Akaashi?”

 

            “He’s been getting a lot more play time with you other regulars lately,” Yukie comments. She’s definitely stolen all of Konoha’s baby carrots, and Bokuto wonders how long it’ll take for him to notice. “Bet he starts.”

 

            “He’s a first year!” Bokuto points out. Which, to be fair, isn’t the best argument. _He_ had a starting spot when he was a first year. Same with Komi. Konoha got changed in regularly enough, too.

 

            “So?” Konoha replies. “He’s a good setter.”

 

            “So’s Kimura.”

 

            Konoha and Yukie both give him a look at that. “Are you trying to defend Kimura right now?” Konoha asks.

 

            Bokuto slumps down in his chair. He’s right. Bokuto doesn’t even— He doesn’t really even _like_ Kimura. He prefers Akaashi.

 

            Jellyfish don’t have brains.

 

            “Hope Akaashi starts,” Konoha mutters, shoving a pile of rice into his mouth. “S’what Kimura deserves.”

 

            Bokuto doesn’t ask what that’s supposed to mean. He nearly skips afternoon practice, and leaves as soon as it’s over. There’s a new nature documentary Mieko wants to watch.

 

            Akaashi starts for Interhigh. Bokuto can’t manage to hit a good straight. He keeps fumbling when he tries to focus too hard on the court instead of the ball. Akaashi makes everything sound so much easier than it actually is.

 

            Kimura takes his place back halfway through the weekend’s matches, but Akaashi still gets changed in regularly. Bokuto’s a little more excited to play every time he steps on the court. He knows, at least, that he’ll get to spike if Akaashi’s the one giving tosses.

 

            They win all weekend. They always do, so it shouldn’t be surprising, but Bokuto’s still impressed. Akaashi comes to ask Bokuto about evening practice during lunch on Monday, and this time, when Konoha offers him the spare chair, he takes it.

 

            Washio and Sarukui start blocking for him during extra practice. Akaashi eats lunch with them at least once a week. He starts to understand what Akaashi means about watching the court when his teammates come up for a block and he notices the perfect spot to spike the ball to, right past Sarukui.

 

            When Akaashi finishes eating his lunch, his fingers tap against the top of the desk. Bokuto wants to know what he’s thinking about all the time. He and Yukie are both into the same book series. His tie is always perfectly knotted.

 

            Kimura gives this scrunched up face every time Bokuto screws up a spike in practice that leaves him feeling wrong. He’s _trying,_ but it’s never enough. He starts spending more nights late in the gym with Akaashi, and as the Spring Tournament begins to loom overhead, Konoha joins them. Bokuto works on hitting nothing but straights. Akaashi gives him this look at lunch sometimes like he thinks it’s really interesting that some jellyfish can glow in the dark.

 

            He never tells him to shut up, even when Bokuto knows he’s talking too much about things that only he cares about.

 

            There’s one practice, where he’s on the court with Akaashi on his side, Kimura across the net giving him a hard stare. He’s distracted, stressed over which setter will be put on the court for the spring tournament, and squids have three hearts, and his grade is getting worse in math, and _look at the court when you spike._ He looks at the court and not the ball and his hand barely makes contact when his arm swings forward. It’s too light of a spike, it’s not Bokuto’s usual full-force hit that nails the court. It’s a _dink,_ it’s a _feint,_ and there’s a very different sort of satisfaction to seeing Kimura’s and Sano’s faces when they both dive to receive and miss.

 

            Every time he pulls a feint during evening practice, Konoha curses at him.

           

            Akaashi starts for the spring tournament, too. During the second match, he gives Bokuto the final toss, that he spikes as a straight that perfectly paints the line. He can hear his teammates cheering around him, all his friends rushing toward him, and he’s never heard Akaashi yell like that before. He feels Konoha jumping him from behind and Akaashi ends up in his arms as Komi leaps in from the side.

 

            Bokuto thinks he likes volleyball. He _really_ likes volleyball.

 

            They lose, eventually. Bokuto tries to tell himself it isn’t a surprise, but he’s still disappointed, and he sits by himself on the bus ride back. He can hear Konoha teasing Akaashi over one thing or another a few seats ahead, and Kimura’s muttering harsh words somewhere behind Bokuto that he wishes he could unhear.

 

            It’s his own fault that he’s not playing so much anymore, Bokuto thinks, for not trying to keep up with Akaashi.

 

            Woodpeckers have special air pockets in their skulls so they don’t feel hurt when they’re pecking at trees.

 

            He takes Mieko to get ice cream. She asks about the tournament, and when Bokuto’s finished talking, she tells him with this big smile that she’s never heard him so excited about volleyball before.

 

            On Monday, Bokuto tracks down Akaashi’s classroom during lunch. He’s sitting at a desk with another boy, but they’re not really talking much. Bokuto still feels like he might be interrupting. That this might be really rude. He’s about to turn back and go have lunch with Konoha and Yukie instead when Akaashi looks up and spots him, and beckons him over.

 

            “You can sit, Bokuto-san,” he says.

 

            And Bokuto feels weird about it, feels like maybe Akaashi’s just being _polite,_ and he’d really rather Bokuto leave. But he pulls over an empty chair and drops down into it, and it’s too loud, he’s too loud, he’s too much—

 

            “You played well in the tournament,” Akaashi tells him.

 

            “Oh! Hey hey, yeah! Thanks, Akaash’,” Bokuto says. Woodpeckers can peck up to twenty times in a _second._ Wickedly fast, kind of like Bokuto’s thoughts now. Maybe Akaashi likes him about as much as Kimura does, but he’s too polite to act like it, and Bokuto’s kind of too distracted to really pick up on a lot of small cues like that. His voice is too loud when he speaks. “You played good too! You’re a really good setter.”

 

            Akaashi’s friend is giving him this look that Bokuto can’t really figure out but it makes his stomach feel tight.

 

            “Thank you, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi says, with this small half-smile. Bokuto tries to settle himself. If Akaashi didn’t like him, he wouldn’t stay so late to practice with him every night. He wouldn’t have offered to. “Was there something in particular you came for?”

 

            Bokuto nods, probably a little too much. Certain species of woodpecker have barbed tongues. “Yeah! Yes!” he says. “Me ’n’ Konoha ’n’ Saru are gonna come in to practice some on Saturday. Yukie and Komi might be there, too. And I thought— we thought— d’you wanna—“

 

            “That would be nice, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi says. “I would like to, yes. Thank you.”

 

            Bokuto’s not really used to Akaashi smiling like that. He probably could’ve just asked at practice later but Konoha would’ve been there to make fun of him stumbling over it. Kimura would’ve been there. Akaashi’s going to come practice with them on Saturday.

 

            “What did you think of the match against Nohebi?” Akaashi asks. And now his friend is giving _him_ a look. Bokuto’s not sure what to make of that, either. Akaashi’s trying to make conversation. Like he doesn’t want him to leave.

 

            So Bokuto stays. He complains about how they _cheated,_ because they _did,_ and Akaashi says it’s more like underhanded tactics. Bokuto tells him that elephants are always on their tiptoes, and Akaashi tells him their skin is an inch thick.

 

            “Akaashi!” Bokuto says, entirely shocked. “How d’you know!”

 

            And Akaashi gives him this half-smile and tells him, “My little brother is really interested in animals. My little sister, too.”

 

            Bokuto didn’t know Akaashi had siblings. There’s a lot he doesn’t know about Akaashi, really. His own fault. Everyone else has been making an effort to get to know all the new first years, including Akaashi, and Bokuto’s been avoiding him. Bokuto’s been really rude, probably. Everything Akaashi’s helped him with, and all he’s offered, and Bokuto’s ignored and avoided him for over half the time.

 

            “You have siblings, Akaashi!” Bokuto says.

 

            “I have five,” Akaashi tells him.

 

            And Bokuto’s not expecting that. Two, _maybe_ three. Akaashi’s all polite and proper and Bokuto didn’t think he had _any_ brothers or sisters. A small family, strict parents, probably. But _five whole siblings—_

 

            Even just Bokuto and his mom and sister get loud and terrible sometimes. Six kids— _Eight people—_

 

            It kind of makes Bokuto’s head hurt just to think about it.

 

            Konoha talks to Akaashi a lot during afternoon practice, and so do some of the other first years. Something he says makes Washio laugh and Bokuto feels vaguely guilty. Everyone else knows Akaashi a lot better than him, and he’s the only one to blame for it. He’s been rude, and childish, but Akaashi doesn’t seem to care all that much and he doesn’t really _get it._ If it were him, he probably would’ve given Akaashi the cold shoulder a long time ago.

 

            If Akaashi doesn’t come to Bokuto’s classroom for lunch, Bokuto goes to Akaashi’s. They stay late for practice every night, even if they’re the only ones, and Akaashi listens to him spew information about humpback whales and polar bears and mole rats. Sometimes he gives back facts of his own that Bokuto relays to Mieko. When she asks how he knows, he tells her a friend told him.

 

            Akaashi doesn’t mind that sometimes Bokuto is too loud, or that he sometimes takes some of the peas in his bento because he’s so used to stealing Konoha’s. Bokuto’s pretty sure he doesn’t know how to keep his hands still, because they really do always fidget — long, nimble fingers twisting around and pulling at each other. He answers every question Bokuto asks and takes one of the cookies Bokuto always has with his lunch on Fridays.

 

            Kimura gets pulled out of the starting rotation by the time they’re starting to prepare for the spring tournament. Akaashi takes his place.

 

            They have their training camp, and not even Nekoma can fully block him out. Bokuto resumes the late practices he started with Kuroo towards the tail end of the previous year, and Kuroo gets frustrated every time he’s not expecting Bokuto to pull something off and misses the block. Akaashi joins in for the first time, and it’s also the first time Bokuto ever sees him look _smug,_ when he pulls a dump that Kuroo has no time to receive.

 

            Penguins are one of about forty species of flightless birds. Akaashi stays up late a lot of nights during camp watching volleyball games on his phone. Bokuto always tells himself he will too, but he always ends up falling asleep immediately after he gets off the phone with his sister. Most nights he even misses out on the variety of Kit-Kats Sarukui’s brought along. (A shame, because the cherry blossom ones are his favorite and he can never manage to find them himself.)

 

            Akaashi always wants to try new quicks and different tricks during their extra evening practice. Some work out well, and others just lead to Kuroo’s ugly laugh ringing through the gym. The upside is, Kuroo’s incredibly irritated when Bokuto manages to pull off the rebound off his block that he’s been trying for since last summer after he saw another spiker do it at that year’s interhigh.

 

            He feels better having Akaashi on the court with him.

 

            Sometimes penguins swallow pebbles and stones with their food. Possibly to help it digest, possibly to add weight to help them dive deeper. Nekoma’s new setter looks like he’d rather be anywhere else than on the court, but he’s good enough that Akaashi almost looks frustrated.

 

            During lunch the next week, Akaashi makes comments about Ubugawa’s serves, brings up some of the things he saw in the videos he watched. Bokuto tells him pangolins can close their ears and nostrils to protect from ant attacks, and Akaashi informs him that their scales make up twenty percent of their body weight. They stay later than usual for practice and by the time they’re finished, the rest of the gym has emptied out entirely.

 

            Bokuto doesn’t remember ever being first to practice, and he forgets he needs a key to get into the club room until he’s standing outside jiggling the doorknob Wednesday morning, hyped up and ready to warm up so he can start practicing that new quick with Akaashi. He’s stuck outside, texting Konoha to ask when Kudo usually shows up.

 

            He asks Kudo later if he can get his own key to the room, and he’s there just as early the next morning. Mieko asks if he’s sick when he’s already heading out the door by the time she gets out of bed.

 

            At some point Bokuto can’t pin down, Akaashi seems to start getting there almost as early. Since they get so much from the leaves they eat, koalas don’t need to drink water as frequently. Akaashi rolls the ball in his hands before he serves it.

 

            He can’t wait to see Kuroo all pissed off when they next face each other on an official court.

 

            The spring tournament is coming up and so are exams, but Bokuto spends more time on the court than he does flipping through a textbook. He tries to study at home, but his mom’s on a baking kick and he always likes to help in the kitchen, and Konoha and Komi call him on Skype most nights with stupid debates that always lead to Mieko bursting into Bokuto’s room with facts to prove all of them wrong, because of course she’s been eavesdropping. That, and Bokuto talks too loud, probably. Definitely.

 

            They go to nationals, of course they do, even though it’s the first time they play through all the preliminary matches without Kimura stepping on court even once, and Bokuto gets what feels like more tosses than Sano. The word _ace_ rings in his mind when he spikes the winning kill against Nohebi, and continues rattling around when they’re standing on center court against one of the Ibaraki teams and his straight blows right through their blocks. He tries to ignore it but it comes with a feeling Bokuto has a hard time ignoring.

 

            (The thought goes away all on its own when Bokuto can’t get anything good in against Itachiyama. He knows he’s being a nuisance when he tells Akaashi to stop tossing to him, and Kimura’s giving him that _look_ from the sideline, and it’s _childish_ to get all dejected over a match they were always going to lose. He watches Sano slam a ball through their blockers and past the libero and knows who the title of ace belongs to.)

 

            Akaashi sits with him on the bus ride home. His fingers fidget with the strap of his backpack, and he tells Bokuto that puffins can flap their wings up to four hundred times in a minute. He says that puffins’ beaks change color during the year, and that there was no way for them to win that match, anyway, and they’ll be ready for next year. They’ll practice, and they’ll work on new techniques, and when next year comes along, they’ll be ready.

 

            The third years all leave, some teary-eyed, Kudo and Kimura with speeches that leave some of Bokuto’s teammates looking sad. Akaashi holds his hands behind his straight back, and Bokuto tries to pay as much attention as he can without letting his mind wander to the monogamy of puffins.

 

            It’s later that the rest of the team is circled around in the club room. Sarukui’s passing around Kit-Kats and Konoha has a bag of grapes that Yukie keeps pulling from, even when he tries to bat her hand away claiming that they’re _his._ They still need to name the next year’s captain. They’ve put it off all afternoon, and Bokuto’s restless thinking about it. He thinks it should be Konoha — he’s the most well-rounded of them, he’s got a good relationship with everyone else on the team. He and Komi are good at getting everyone else fired up when they start to feel the pressure of the match. He’s said as much before, to which Yukie and Sarukui laughed and reminded him of all the reasons why Konoha’s too irresponsible for it. But that’s why he’s got a vice captain, isn’t it?

 

            (He would say Akaashi. Akaashi’s responsible and patient and he doesn’t get fed up with anyone when they’re not performing their best, and he always has really cool new moves to try. But he’s going to be a second-year, so he can’t, can he? It’s got to be a third year. It should be Konoha. Konoha and Sarukui would be a good team.)

 

            Bokuto’s pulling apart a green tea Kit-Kat, and everyone else is watching him, and it feels like they all know something he doesn’t. Like they’ve already made a decision and didn’t even _think_ to ask him. Which, okay, it kinda hurts a little bit, being left out like that, hurts a _lot_ really, but he gets it. He’s not really the smartest ever. It’s fine.

 

            “Bokuto,” Washio says, legs stretched out in front of him on the floor. He’s the only one who’s turned down Sarukui’s offer of sweets. “We think you should be captain.”

 

            Bokuto drops the piece of Kit-Kat he’s still holding. Konoha snorts, and Komi looks away, trying to cover up the fact that he’s laughing.

 

            “Me!” Bokuto says. This is a joke, right? Like when Kimura dangled the title of ace over him, the number four jersey, right before tossing it over to Sano. Bokuto’s not good enough. He’s never good enough. He throws fits on the court, he’s childish, he’s too much of all the wrong things. He’s not meant to be important like that. “I’m not— No! Why?”

 

            His heart is high in his throat and this has to be a joke. He never thought his teammates would be this cruel, but he used to think all the third years were nice, too, but he’s just— he’s not—

 

            Konoha’s giving him a _look._ “Why wouldn’t it be?” he says.

 

            “Bokkun, you motivate everyone else, you know?” Yukie tells him through a mouthful of grapes. “You hold the team together.”

 

            And Bokuto doesn’t _get it._ He didn’t even really start liking volleyball so much until halfway through the year. Everyone else sitting in the room with him has been playing just as long or longer, but always with the same passion Bokuto’s only just found. He doesn’t _deserve_ this.

 

            “Why’d’you think any of us have been practicing so late?” Konoha asks. “You’ve been all fired up lately, we wanted to keep up.”

 

            “You always keep going,” Komi tells him as he shuffles through the pile of Kit-Kats in the center of the floor. “Even when you’re not getting through. You come back and keep going. It’s, like, inspirational, or something.” He leans back with a strawberry chocolate, and Bokuto’s mind is reeling.

 

            He’s—

 

            They really mean it.

 

            “’N Akaashi should be your vice,” Yukie says. Konoha shoves at her, tells her, “Stop cutting in, you’re not actually part of this,” which leads to a whole other argument that leaves Bokuto with a moment to let this settle in his mind.

 

            They really think he’s reliable enough, really trust him enough, to name him captain. A decision they all agree on, and they want—

 

            _“Akaashi?”_

 

            “Why wouldn’t it be?” Komi asks.

 

            Bokuto doesn’t get what that means. Later, he’ll try and ask Mieko if _she_ knows, and she’ll tell him she doesn’t even know who half his teammates _are_ and that none of this means anything to her, but hey, congrats, want to get some ice cream? He doesn’t get what that means, and Mieko won’t either, but he knows he feels a lot lighter and a lot happier, and he doesn’t think he’d want it any other way.

 

            On their way out, Akaashi tells him, “You deserve this, Bokuto-san.”

 

            Bokuto gets an extra scoop of ice cream when he goes with Mieko.

 

            Volleyball practices are lessened during the tail end of the year so they can study for exams. Which helps nothing, because it doesn’t matter how many times Bokuto goes over his notes or flips through textbooks. He’s not going to do well anyway. He never does.

 

            He spends his lunches in Akaashi’s classroom with his forehead pressed to the desk, having long since given up on trying to make sense of any of the formulas. He knows Akaashi is giving him a _look._ Which, okay, is totally fair, since he should really be making more of an effort. But he can’t help it — his mind is stuck on how capybaras eat _eight pounds_ of grass a day, and that’s _so much._ Grass is so _light_ , he can’t picture what _eight pounds_ of it would look like.

 

            Akaashi’s fingers are tapping on his desk while he eats his mochi with his other hand, and capybaras can hold their breath for five whole minutes underwater. Akaashi murmurs his name through a mouthful of lunch and Bokuto is _trying_ to figure out what all these letters are supposed to mean in the middle of all the letters, but he doesn’t really _care._ He likes school, he thinks things are interesting, _really,_ it’s just— there are other things on his mind that are more important. Like South American rodents, and he’s been getting really good at rebounding off blocks, really good at being calmer on court in general, and will Akaashi stay with him to practice late tonight or is he going to have to try to convince Konoha to set for him?

 

            He needs to be studying.

 

            “Bokuto-san,” Akaashi says. “If you’d like to come with me to the library this weekend, I can try to help work this out with you.”

 

            “Really, Akaashi?” Bokuto sits up in his seat, so fast it nearly tips backwards. “You mean that?”

 

            “If it means you’ll get your face off my napkin, yes,” Akaashi says.

 

            Bokuto whines, and Akaashi gives that smug half-smile. He misses volleyball, but at least he’s not missing so much time with Akaashi.

 

            They do go to the library, and while Akaashi can’t help much with specific problems, since it’s math he’s only briefly touched on at this point, he does have tricks to help Bokuto memorize things. And while Bokuto can’t help Akaashi with much with his studies, he can pay for snacks at the convenience store on their way home.

 

            This, too, becomes part of the semi-routine they’ve built up. They have late practices during the week, and meet up to study on weekends. Most of the time it’s at a back corner of the library, but there’s a couple days they sprawl across Bokuto’s bedroom floor with books and sweets, and Mieko asks _far_ too many questions about Akaashi after he leaves.

 

            He doesn’t ace any of his exams, but he does well enough. Akaashi smiles when Bokuto shows him his test scores and they meet up with Sarukui and Komi for a movie.

 

            Summer vacation is spent meeting up with Yukie and Konoha to pick up ice cream from convenience stores, taking Mieko to the pool and both of them daring each other to jump off the high diving board. They have practice, and Akaashi walks with him after to get popsicles down the road. Half the team goes out for ramen one weekend and they’re loud and laughing and Washio spills down the front of his shirt, and it’s good. Everything is _good._

 

            Third year starts, and new first years are introduced, and he does not think about how a group of ferrets is called a business, doesn’t get stuck on their heightened senses of smell and hearing. He listens to names and remembers almost all of them, and Akaashi stands at his side with fingers fidgeting behind his back. He knows Konoha is watching him as he rocks on his feet and listens to one of the first years introduce himself as Onaga, a middle blocker. There’s Mori, a setter, and Bokuto feels defensive over Akaashi for half a second when he says so. Ferrets sleep fourteen to eighteen hours in a day.

 

            Practices for the first week are lighter, trying to get an idea of everyone’s individual skills. It’s different playing without their third years on the court, the same familiar pillars, but Bokuto likes this better. He likes playing more with Washio and Sarukui, likes that Akaashi has become a constant at his side.

 

            He tries to be analytical of the first years’ skills, like a good captain should be. Some fit in and flow well with the rest of the team, others are rougher around the edges. Regardless, it’s just going to be a matter of getting in more practice with everyone, getting used to individual quirks. Bokuto knows this. Sea turtles don’t have teeth — their mouths have adapted to the food they usually eat.

 

            Akaashi’s in a different classroom now when Bokuto goes to meet him for lunch, and the first couple days, he forgets and starts going down the first year corridor by mistake. They talk about their teammates and new things they could try at practice. Onaga is a good blocker, Akaashi thinks. Akaashi thinks a lot of things Bokuto didn’t pick up on at all. He tries to be more mindful of everyone at practice after that — like Ono’s still favoring his left knee after an injury he got after break, and one of the first year spikers, Yamashita, always has his arms too far apart or too close together when he blocks. He has a killer straight, though.

 

            They get their new jerseys and Bokuto can’t stop grinning at the number four that’s right in the center of his.

 

            Konoha tells him that the title of ace has belonged to him since last year, and he should’ve been wearing it all along. Sea turtles can hear vibrations and have incredible eyesight. Bokuto sometimes sees clearly enough when he jumps for a spike that he can figure out the exact right spot to hit the ball and get past even a three-person block.

 

            They’ve got a new manager that Yukie spends a lot of time with, even at lunch, and Konoha doesn’t get any of his carrots anymore. It’s crowded around Bokuto’s desk now, and at some point there’s a shift where Akaashi stops coming to him because Bokuto is going to his room every day.

 

            He still spends weekends with Akaashi — mostly studying, sometimes meeting Konoha or Ono for a movie. Mieko lists off facts about barn owls when Akaashi stays for dinner one night, and he tells her about horned owls. Mieko tells Bokuto later that she likes his volleyball friend. Even more than Sarukui, who always lets her win at Mario Party when he comes over.

 

            They practice late. Bokuto and Akaashi are always last to leave, but Konoha sticks around a while, and so does Washio. Some of the first years, too — Fujii and Onaga and Nakano. Bokuto tells Akaashi when they’re walking home a few weeks later that he thinks they should talk to coach about letting Onaga start when they have their practice match against Shinzen. It’s a decision he feels even better about when they win.

 

            Bokuto’s excited for practices and excited for Interhigh, and his mom tells him one night she thought he didn’t like volleyball. Bokuto squawks that _of course_ he likes it, he _loves_ it, hit _play_ already, he swears Abe is going to finally sort out the issues he’s been having with Suzuki this episode.

 

            One Wednesday, a week before Interhigh, Bokuto’s telling Washio about the math test he has coming up, and how he’s _worried_ about it. It’s important, and he needs it to keep his grade up in the class, and Akaashi interjects that if he’d like, he can come over after practice to study some. It should be quiet, he tells him, and the library will probably close too soon for them anyway with how late Bokuto’s been keeping them in the gym.

 

            He tries to feel guilty but he’s too excited at the thought of going to Akaashi’s house. It shouldn’t be such a big deal, but Akaashi’s never suggested it before. They’ve been to Bokuto’s house, and three different cafés, and the library countless times before. And Bokuto’s just always figured that Akaashi’s parents were just strict and didn’t want him having anyone over — that’s how Komi’s are, so Bokuto gets it.

 

            While he doesn’t really want to admit it, he’s _curious._ He wants to know what Akaashi’s house is like, what his family is like.

 

            He bounces on his toes the whole time he’s waiting for Akaashi to finish changing out after practice. It’s probably quiet. Proper and nice, like Akaashi is, and pretty. It probably smells nice, too, like lavender or cinnamon or one of those fancy candles Mieko always stops to smell when they’re out shopping. Kingfishers don’t sing, just have a loud screeching noise. There are probably throw pillows with little quotes on them all over the house.

 

            Bokuto thinks he couldn’t have been further off.

 

            Akaashi opens the door, and he’s immediately hit with an even worse laugh than Kuroo’s, and something’s definitely burning, and there is a massive painting hanging smack dab center on the wall of what could be a foot, or could be an owl, or could just be spilled paint. Bokuto can’t really tell.

 

            “My apologies, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi says, fingers twisting in on themselves. “I thought they would all be gone by now.” He looks to a boy sitting on the floor beneath the painting, feet resting on a dog bigger than any other Bokuto’s seen before, playing a handheld game. “What’s on fire?”

 

            The boy barely glances up and says, “Dad’s trying to bake.” He has the same messy curls as Akaashi.

 

            Akaashi nods, and starts down the hall. Bokuto follows, into what must be Akaashi’s room. It’s clean, but whatever organizational system Akaashi goes by makes no sense to him. There’s a stack of books holding up a potted cactus on his desk, right next to a lone shoe. There are folded socks on his nightstand next to medical tape and a handful of scattered paperclips.

 

            “My sister has a football game tonight,” Akaashi says, “and they were supposed to have left by now. It’ll settle down soon. Is it just your math test you have to study for?”

 

            “Yes! Yeah, just math!” Bokuto says. There are posters on the wall, of the ocean and of volleyball teams, of a movie Bokuto only maybe remembers hearing about once. “I can’t fail this one, Akaash’.”

 

            “You’re not going to fail,” Akaashi tells him. He drops his backpack onto his desk chair, and his volleyball bag onto the floor beside it. “You’re smarter than that, Bokuto-san.”

 

            Bokuto looks down to the floor. “I’m not really all that smart.”

 

            “Sure you are. You’re just awful at math.”

 

            “Akaashi!”

 

            “I’m being honest,” Akaashi tells him. “You’re bad at school, that doesn’t mean you aren’t smart. Do you want a snack? We’ve got plenty of fruit. Rui just throws a bunch in the cart when no one’s looking.”

 

            Bokuto shakes his head. His head is filled with too many thoughts. He’s never going to be able to focus on math.

 

            It does quiet down, eventually. There’s a number of voices calling out goodbyes to Akaashi as they leave, and then it’s just—

 

            Quiet.

 

            Akaashi twirls his pencil in his hand while he’s reading his assignments and the lead clicks around and how’s he do that anyway? Bokuto always drops his when he tries.

 

            He passes his math test and he starts to notice that Akaashi really does always have apples and grapes and pomegranate seeds in his lunches. Onaga is part of the starting rotation at interhigh, and Bokuto plays some of his best games the first day. They watch Nekoma face Nohebi and Akaashi makes a comment about Kenma looking more comfortable on the court and Bokuto can’t pinpoint why, but he knows he’s right.

 

            He’s excited to face Nekoma himself. To see if they’ve changed just as much as Fukurodani has.

 

            (When they do get the chance, it’s incredible how much they’ve improved. There’s an entirely different feel to the team, and Bokuto feels the blood rushing through his veins with every volley. _This_ is what he loves about the game. Akaashi’s perfectly timed dumps and the quick blocks against Nekoma’s ace’s spikes, that moment of clarity when he can see exactly how he needs to spike the ball, Kuroo’s irritated reaction to his feints. _This_ is what he craves.)

 

            (They win against Nekoma.)

 

            (They lose at the tail end of nationals, playing against a school from Kanagawa. Akaashi sits next to him on the bus back, and Sarukui passes around a variety of Kit-Kats. Bokuto doesn’t think about how there’s only one big tournament remaining before he’s done—)

 

            Akaashi still comes over to Bokuto’s to study, but Bokuto also ends up at Akaashi’s just as often. He has five siblings — an older brother, a younger brother, and three younger sisters, two of which are twins. They’re all loud and look like Akaashi and they ask about volleyball over crowded dinners that are always a little burned, and pass joking insults back and forth over conversation. When the twins first meet Bokuto, they tease Akaashi and ask if he’s his _boyfriend,_ and Bokuto tries not to get stuck on that word choice. Akaashi’s youngest sister, Kimi, is four, and sometimes hangs out in Akaashi’s room while they study and fills Akaashi’s hair with dinosaur-shaped hair clips, and touches her hand to the Bokuto’s gelled spikes.

 

            They work on homework sometimes. Other times, Akaashi is yelling differently than Bokuto’s ever heard him at his older brother in the middle of a game of Mario Kart that Bokuto almost always wins. He calls Akaashi _Keiji_ when he’s over and doesn’t know what to make of the feeling that comes with it.

 

            There’s a routine that slowly builds. Bokuto’s house on Fridays after late practice for dinner, Akaashi’s on Wednesdays and Thursdays and Saturdays for homework and video games and bad movies.

 

            He asks Konoha one weekend if he’s free to go shopping for new kneepads, and Konoha snorts and jokes that sure, if he’s not too busy with his boyfriend, and Bokuto spends too much time insisting _it’s not like that._

 

            Half the team stays for late practices, and Bokuto feels the pressure of the spring tournament, even though it’s still a few months away, and they still have time, and it’s _fine._ They start meeting on Saturdays, too, and Bokuto just wants to keep _playing_ with them.

 

            Akaashi starts calling time on a lot of the practices, tells Bokuto he’ll get sick if he doesn’t get some actual rest, and Bokuto begrudgingly listens.

 

            He watches a lot of videos of professional games, and asks Akaashi if they can try some of the things they do. He mostly says yes, and they mostly don’t work out, but some go well enough that they work more on them.

 

            There’s a Miyagi school that joins their training camp, the crows, and their tiny first year blocker is _something,_ Akaashi tells him one day after practice.

 

            “Yeah, that’s a word for it,” Konoha snorts. “They’re all kind of a mess, aren’t they?”

 

            “They haven’t won a single game yet,” Komi comments.

 

            “But they have potential,” Akaashi says.

 

            Bokuto lets his mind wander with that. _Potential._ Something in the way their shrimpy blocker _jumps,_ a fire in their libero’s voice. All the failed quicks and swinging arms that never result in spikes — it’s building to _something._

 

            He’s excited.

 

            During the week-long camp, they play three-on-threes that are probably unbalanced, but Bokuto’s just excited to _play._ He’s excited to see what the first year crows have in them, what Nekoma’s new middle blocker can do. Excited to see the _potential._

 

            He sits on his futon after their first, cut-too-short game, sitting next to Akaashi and thinking. He tells Akaashi he thinks Tsukishima is good, but there’s something missing. He’s showing up, and putting in the effort, but there’s something just—

 

            “He doesn’t really care much, does he, Bokuto-san?” Akaashi says, not looking up from his phone. He’s typing out a text, his younger brother’s name at the top of the screen.

 

            Bokuto pauses a moment. Akaashi’s right, he thinks. “No. But hey, that shrimpy one, right! He’s like— He’s all _gah_ and _whoosh._ “

 

            He knows it’s nonsensical, but Akaashi nods all the same. “He’s kind of like you.”

 

            “I can hit the ball, Akaashi!”

 

            “Most of the time, yes.”

 

            “All the time!”

 

            Akaashi glances up at him, one eyebrow raised. “Not against Ubugawa today.”

 

            “Akaashi! You’re supposed to be supportive!”

 

            “I’m being honest, Bokuto-san.”

 

            _“Cold, Akaashi.”_

 

            He’s first at the third gym the next evening, stretching and getting ready to pick up where they left off. He thinks Akaashi’s right about Tsukishima — he comes in, participates, but it’s like Bokuto in his science class; he’s just doing the work, and he doesn’t _care_ much. There are other things more important to him.

 

            Hinata, though—

 

            Crows are fearless, and intelligent, and known for their problem-solving skills. Hinata watches Bokuto with the same enthusiasm Bokuto watches professional teams play on TV, caws at the moves Bokuto’s spent the last year polishing to make perfect. And Bokuto thinks, if he’s this good now, then when he’s a third year—

 

            He takes Bokuto’s rebound and twists it in a way that’ll work for him.

 

            Bokuto thinks Akaashi must be tired of him talking about it nonstop when they’re getting ready for bed, but he can’t keep the words from coming out.

 

            He is excited.

 

            It’s like when the cherry blossoms start to bud at the very beginning of spring. The same anticipation for how they’ll look when they bloom.

 

            When he’s on the phone with Mieko later, she laughs and calls him a nerd and he cries out a reminder to her about the way she talks about orcas. They’re on even ground.

 

            Akaashi’s older brother teases Akaashi the same way Akaashi sometimes teases Bokuto. The twins listen to Bokuto’s rambling about volleyball all through dinner and insist they have to come watch a game one day. Bokuto does his math homework, and Akaashi’s younger brother rattles off facts about iguanas from Akaashi’s bed.

 

            During lunch, Bokuto watches the same videos twenty times over on his phone, and Akaashi peels apart his oranges with careful fingers.

 

            The spring tournament is looming overhead, and Akaashi gives constant reminders that he can’t push all his schoolwork to the side for volleyball. He has to keep his grades up if he wants to play.

 

            They spend Monday evenings on Akaashi’s living room couch with class notes. Akaashi gives him tips on how to make his notes more organized and useful, and Bokuto helps make dinner when Akaashi’s dad doesn’t get home early enough.

 

            It won’t be long before graduation.

 

            Bokuto tries not to think so much about that.

 

            It’s not like things will change so much, anyway. He’s going to keep playing volleyball. He’s being scouted by different universities, the letters piling up on the kitchen counter, and his mom’s been helping him do the research for where he should enroll. Mieko muses that maybe he’ll stop sucking at school when he actually gets to pick what classes he takes. He’ll keep playing, and keep trying to decipher what the words in his textbooks are telling him, and it’ll be fine.

 

            It’ll just be different people at his side on the court, different faces at lunch, less afternoons fighting with Yukie over the last piece of celery in Konoha’s lunch, less nights with Akaashi’s foot jammed in his side as he tries to get him to lose at Mario Kart. No more of Sarukui’s Kit-Kats, or his team pulling him out of a slump mid-game, or Akaashi giving him those perfect tosses.

 

            Some nights he has a hard time sleeping.

 

            Bokuto goes out with Akaashi and Konoha and Yukie, and he gets new volleyball shoes and Konoha spends too much yen on a claw machine, and Akaashi’s fingers graze the sleeve of a sweater he doesn’t end up getting. Washio and Sarukui have dinner at his house, and Akaashi and Komi join him at the park with Mieko and a walk around the pond turns into a full-on race, all of them trying to trip each other up.

 

            Most of the universities he’s considering are close. He can still take the train and visit home, watch Fukurodani matches when he doesn’t have games of his own. He can still stop by and ask how Akaashi’s younger siblings are doing in school and what play Kaori’s going to be in this time.

 

            But that’ll only be sometimes. He’ll still be busy with his own things. Pandas are a symbol of peace and—

 

            And things are going to change.

 

            Bokuto knows that.

 

            He gets to morning practices a little earlier, takes a little longer changing out after. Walks the long way home and picks up different flavors of chips on his way to Akaashi’s on the weekend.

 

            The spring tournament is a few weeks away and he’s rambling to Akaashi’s brother while they make dinner about the different teams, and how _this_ is the year he bests Sakusa, and he’s excited to see how the crows are going to fare, and has Akaashi told him about their shrimpy middle blocker because he’s _amazing._ _Both_ of their middle blockers are really cool, actually, and what does Hiro _mean_ Akaashi never mentioned them?

 

            Akaashi gives him a flat look that Bokuto knows is fake annoyance (he knows what Akaashi really looks like when he’s annoyed, the scrunch of his mouth and downturn of his eyebrows when someone from another team is talking about the owls’ faulty ace or Rui’s eaten all the rest of the mochi ice cream).

 

            It’s a loud night full of Akaashi’s siblings yelling and Akaashi fighting them for the last roll at dinner and Kimi being so excited to sit in Bokuto’s lap while they eat she spills her juice and Bokuto has to stop laughing for long enough to reassure her that it’s okay, she can stop crying. It’s loud, all the way until it’s just Bokuto and Akaashi in Akaashi’s room, with notebooks out that they aren’t reviewing, because they’re too busy with other things. With Bokuto ranting about the drama and how Abe is so _stupid,_ with volleyball videos Bokuto insists on replaying ten times each, with Akaashi’s careful fingers sewing a button back onto one of Rui’s school sweaters.

 

            He thinks this is what he might miss most.

 

            The spring tournament starts, and they have a good match against Nekoma in the prelims. One where they’re both giving their best effort, one where he is hit again by the thought that he loves his team more than almost anything else in the world when they’re still there when he breaks on them. They’re still there and still try to pick him up and Akaashi still gives him tosses and no one makes him feel useless.

 

            This is his last time playing at Nationals. He savors every minute of it. Every toss, every late-night card game where they’re all a little too rowdy, every early morning jog with Akaashi.

 

            He stands on the court the second day and this is his last time playing at Nationals, but the first time he feels like he belongs. He’s _proud_ and steady and plays some of the best matches he’s ever had. He is loud and triumphant, and he basks in every grin Akaashi has to offer with every won game.

 

            Things are going to change but sometimes change is good. Sometimes change means forgetting the feeling that he is made up of too much _wrong._ Sometimes change means feeling _right_ with himself.

 

            He’s okay with it, if it means he’s going to continue the climb.

 

            He goes on a late jog with Akaashi later that night. He knows he’s thinking too much, and knows Akaashi is, too. He gets especially fidgety when he’s overthinking, pulling on his fingers, and he gets this grouchy look on his face — a terrible thinking face, really. So he doesn’t share any of his fears, doesn’t tell him how much he’s going to miss all the summer camps, and Konoha nearly choking on watermelon seeds in the middle of a competition with Washio to see who can spit them farther. Training camp, and his teammates’ ploys to get his mood back up when it drops during a match, the feeling he gets with Akaashi at his side on the court.

 

            He just tells him, “I really do wish I could play more with everyone!” And he tries to keep it light, tries to ease whatever is on Akaashi’s mind, but he has this look on his face now and maybe Bokuto screwed it up. He’s starting to spiral into the thought that maybe he just made things worse, when Akaashi says the words he needs to hear to know it’s okay.

 

            Says the words he needs to hear to know, they’re going to win. And keep winning. He’s going to keep climbing.

 

            Akaashi ushers him back inside with words that only make a half sort of sense to Bokuto, and they get back up to their hotel room where the day’s matches are still replaying on the TV, and Komi’s breaking out a deck of cards, and Bokuto settles his mind. He watches Akaashi fidget with the cards in his hand, and knows he’s still thinking about something. But he does give a quick quip to something stupid Konoha blurts out that sends everyone else laughing, and there’s a brief pause where Bokuto catches him smiling, and he thinks—

 

            Everything’s fine.

 

            Nekoma plays Karasuno in the morning and there’s an energy in the air that Bokuto really, really wishes he could bottle up and save forever. It’s the feeling volleyball always should be, this rush in his veins and he doesn’t know who to even _cheer for._

 

            He watches the whole match with Akaashi at his side. He knows the rest of his team is around somewhere, maybe with the guys who came from Shinzen and Ubugawa that they passed in the front hall, maybe alone in the stands fighting over bags of chips. Either way, this is what he likes — getting to be fired up and loud over the match, exchanging thoughts and observations on the match, seeing the brief shock pass over Akaashi’s face when a play comes he wasn’t expecting. He likes just . . . him and Akaashi. It’s comfortable. It’s right.

 

            They cheer for their friends. He feels something like pride at Hinata’s quick, at Tsukishima’s dedication to the whole match. A reached summit.

 

            It’s hard having to watch either team lose, even when Bokuto knew from the start that the match couldn’t ever end in a tie.

 

            Akaashi’s words ring through his head as they start their next match. _There’s still round three, the quarterfinals, semifinals, and finals._ There’s still time. Plenty of time, because they’re going to win them all. Bokuto knows. He feels the charge in his veins and the bounce in his toes.

 

            _We’ve still got a long way ahead of us._

 

            They make it all the way through quarterfinals, to the semifinals. It’s the furthest Fukurodani has made it in the last several years, since before Bokuto joined the team. He feels kind of breathless, feels the anticipation. This is the first time he’s seen Akaashi tape his fingers.

 

            They don’t go to finals. They don’t—

 

            Bokuto stands on the court with the sound of the final spike echoing through his mind. Everything feels like it’s moving slow around him, and he feels _breathless,_ feels _wrong,_ and this is it this is _it._

 

            He hears Konoha sniffling behind him, trying not to break down in the middle of the court, where everyone can see, where crowds and cameras are watching. Komi’s off to Bokuto’s side, jaw clenched, staring hard at the floor, all his light demeanor gone.

 

            This is not Bokuto’s time to break. This is when he has to step up for his team, be the captain they believed he would be, even as he doubted himself.

 

            There will be time.

 

            He keeps it together as they thank the opposing team for a good match, as they bow for Fukurodani’s cheer section. He smiles for his team when they get to the locker room to change out and thanks them for playing with him, and he does not falter when Konoha walks out and does not meet up with them again until later, when they’re eating their way through Sarukui’s entire stash of sweets.

 

            He avoids Akaashi. He can’t look at him, can’t find the words to say to him. He preoccupies himself with joking with Washio and watching the other match they missed on Komi’s tablet. It won’t last and Bokuto knows it. He’s going to have to face him eventually, but he can’t bear it just yet.

 

            Not until after everyone is starting to settle for the night, bittersweet words and tears hanging over the room, and Bokuto says he’s going for a walk, and Akaashi follows.

 

            They don’t talk. Bokuto meanders down the hotel halls, through the lobby, out to the back courtyard. He finds a bench and drops into it, legs sticking out in front of him. It’s a clear, cold night, the sound of cars on the nearby street filling the air, and if this were his drama, this would be the part right before some pivotal scene that leaves him and his mom both on the verge of tears and yelling at the TV screen.

 

            There will probably be tears either way.

 

            Akaashi sits beside him, fingers tugging on his thumb, and he cried when they lost, too. Silent tears and a hard gaze and—

 

            “We weren’t supposed to lose,” Bokuto tells him, voice choking around the words. “There was supposed to be more— more _time.”_

 

            “I know, Bokuto-san.”

 

            “I just wanted to keep playing—“

 

            _With you._

 

            “I know, Bokuto-san.”

 

            Bokuto stares out at the courtyard with it’s frosted dead grass, bites hard down on his lip, and lets himself cry. Akaashi’s head falls onto his shoulder, and in the single glance he allows himself, Bokuto sees his tears, too.

 

            He wants to take it back. Wants to take back the thought that he’s ready for the change, because he’s _not._ He’s not that invincible now, he’s not prepared for a future with strangers who don’t know how to pick him up. Who _can’t_ pick him up because those strangers won’t be Konoha, or Komi, or Sarukui. Those strangers won’t be Akaashi.

 

            When Monday comes, for the first time since Akaashi joined the team, Bokuto skips practice. Just the morning practice. He sleeps in a little later instead, has breakfast with Mieko. Takes the longer way to school down the side roads where cherry blossoms bloom in the spring, that’s still frosted over now. He’s first into his classroom, and no one else coming early asks him about the tournament. For that, at least, he’s grateful.

 

            He eats with Akaashi at lunch and steals the apple slices from his bento. They talk about pygmy tyrants but don’t mention volleyball. Akaashi’s fingers tap against his thigh in a messy rhythm.

 

            Bokuto sits in the club room before afternoon practice, running over the words he could and should say in his mind. The right thing to thank his teammates — his friends — for these last three years. For giving him this piece in his life that he doesn’t know what he would do without.

 

            He gets halfway through his actual speech at the top of practice before Konoha tells him to shut up.

 

            “You’re not dying, are you? So shut up,” he says. “We’re still going to have time together.”

 

            Bokuto will tell him later.

 

            There’s nothing left to practice for, for any of the third years, and they have exams and graduation coming up ahead of them. It feels wrong to not walk over to the club room at the end of the day, and not to listen to the squeak of volleyball shoes on the gym floor all evening. He goes home and watches documentaries with Mieko, or bakes with his mom, or sometimes sticks around in the library waiting for Akaashi so he can walk home with him.

 

            Akaashi helps him study still. Of course, that’s only some of the time. Other afternoons are filled with smoking stoves in his kitchen at Hiro’s failed cooking attempts, and Rui’s football games, and coloring with Kimi on the floor of her bedroom.

 

            Akaashi is a terrible artist.

 

            Things are different already, without the long nights of volleyball together, but Bokuto doesn’t hate the change. He still has lunch with all his friends, and still spends plenty of time with Akaashi. It’ll be an even bigger shift after graduation, when he starts at university and can’t see Akaashi every day like this.

 

            He’s going to hate it.

 

            But it will be okay.

 

            Akaashi’s hands are bigger than Bokuto’s. It’s a discovery made during a break from coloring with Kimi, when he’s watching Akaashi’s fingers fidget with the edge of his sloppy ice cream cone drawing. The thought strikes that his own hands might be smaller, and it’s confirmed when he insists Akaashi hold his hand up so they can compare.

 

            It’s that his fingers are longer.

 

            Somewhere in the time Bokuto has his palm pressed against Akaashi’s, the thought strikes he wonders what it would be like to hold his hand. He doesn’t know what to do with that.

 

            They meet with Onaga and Komi and Yukie to play laser tag one weekend, and there’s another where most of the team goes to play kickball at the park, and they lose the ball to the pond, and Bokuto’s a little hung up on Akaashi’s laugh. Akaashi comes with to see a movie with him and Mieko, and joins them for dinner, too.

 

            Akaashi keeps him updated on what’s going on with the team. They’re trying different rotations, trying to bridge gaps and work out kinks and his hands keep twisting around each other and Bokuto knows he’s thinking too much about it all.

 

            “It’ll be fine, Akaashi!” Bokuto assures him. “It’s you, after all! You’ll get it. Hey, hey, how’s Ono’s receive shaping up?”

 

            He spends Saturday afternoons sprawled across Akaashi’s bed trying to read through his math notes while Akaashi sits on the edge beside him, watching videos from practice. Sometimes Bokuto peers over his shoulder to see, but Akaashi always shoves him back and reminds him he has his grades to worry about right now.

 

            The days to Bokuto’s graduation build up. The twins tease him about how he’s going to be a _fancy uni boy_ and don’t forget about them when he’s all famous playing in the pros. Hiro wipes fake tears and insists he _must_ write home, and Akaashi snorts and says this isn’t even Bokuto’s home, and Bokuto interjects with an _isn’t it, though?_

 

            He texts Mieko with his exam scores first, the highest he’s had since first year, and Akaashi second. They all go for ice cream, and Bokuto thinks he’s going to come back as often as he can just to see Akaashi’s smile.

 

            After the graduation ceremony, his mom hugs him and cries, and Mieko gives him the biggest grin, and they’re supposed to meet his uncle for dinner soon, and Bokuto promises to meet them in the parking lot, that he wants to see his friends first.

 

            Konoha and Komi joke and laugh, and Sarukui has a cherry blossom Kit-Kat tucked in his jacket pocket for him, and they collectively thank him for the last three years, and Bokuto has to tell them to shut up because how’s it fair that they get a speech and he didn’t?

 

            They all promise to call. There’s still their group text, and Konoha promises to Skype every week to hear all about how terrible Bokuto is at living alone. It’ll be different and hard and good, and Bokuto thinks he’s almost ready for it.

 

            There’s just one thing he has left. One person he still has to see.

 

            Akaashi’s off to the side, alone, hands behind his back, but Bokuto knows his fingers are fidgeting. He meets Bokuto’s eyes and congratulates him on graduating, and Bokuto grins with a thank you.

 

            He clears his throat and knows this is one of the biggest hurdles yet. “I know it’s like— I mean it doesn’t really work with our uniforms, since they only have two buttons, you know! It’s supposed to be with a different jacket, but, well— I still want you to have this anyway.” He holds out his hand, grasping the second button of his uniform jacket, and Akaashi lets it fall into his own, waiting hand. He doesn’t break his gaze away from Bokuto’s to look at it. “It doesn’t have to mean anything, just— I wanted you to—“

 

            “I know, Bokuto-san.”

 

            Akaashi’s smiling. Bokuto feels a little breathless.

 

            “I didn’t really thank you, you know?” Bokuto says, before he can lose all his thoughts entirely. “For everything. I mean, you were always, like— you were always there. To support me. And you gave me a lot, Akaash’, and I’m really happy I got to play with you. I’m really happy I got you.” He scuffs his shoe in the dirt, glances off to the side. “Dunno what I’m gonna do without you next to me next year.”

 

            “There will be time,” Akaashi tells him. “Other courts to play on. Other matches to win. Other fruit for you to _steal_ from me.”

 

            “Akaashi!”

 

            “I _ask_ if you want some and you always say no, and then you go and take mine. I don’t understand.”

 

            “Well if you already know I’m going to take it, then just pack extra!”

 

            _“That’s not the point.”_

 

            “You could’ve just said something, you know!”

 

            “I’m not particularly good at telling you no, Bokuto-san.”

 

            They’re both sloppy confessions that leave words unsaid and both of them smiling. When Bokuto holds his hand, Akaashi’s fingers lace snug between his own. Someday he’ll tell Akaashi everything he’s still left out. All he did to remind Bokuto there’s always another way up the mountain, and that he’s strong enough to make it. He’ll tell him everything, in time.


End file.
